Paper Width
by Surrendered to Christ
Summary: Megan Parker can't afford to make mistakes, because the line between life and death is only a paper width.
1. Paper Width

This is my first Drake and Josh story, so reviews are much appreciated!

Title inspired by a line from the great Himura Kenshin from 'Rurouni Kenshin.'

I do not own Drake and Josh.

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_**Paper-width**_

Megan Parker didn't make mistakes.

She couldn't afford to. Every ounce, every grain, every tiny millimeter must be set down just right. Not a dot could ever be allowed out of place. A single dot could change ten dollars to one hundred, one hundred to one thousand. Did you ever notice that? It's one miniscule fleck of dust that starts the first drop of rain in a mighty flood. It's one simple cell that presses the switch for the creation of a life.

Megan Parker noticed. She understood, and she loved every tiny bit of it. She trained herself to notice every fleeting detail, finding every speck of sand covering the entire mosaic that was the world around her.

She was young when she found out that she could begin to use details to her advantage. Because what she saw, most others missed. And that was how the simple pranks began. Little experiments. How far could she push the unnoticeable, creating something out of nothing? How far could her illusions of normality hold up before the others discovered the trap laying just a paper-width away?

It was just a paper-width of difference. Making it one _thick_ piece of paper.

And when she discovered how far she could push –

It was exhilarating.

It became almost an addiction. Courting with danger on an everyday scale. Just slipping by here, a breeze of wind there, and entire earthquakes could be formed. It was a type of thrill nothing else could offer her. Some people jumped out of planes. Other jumped off mountains. Still others walked on a thin wire thousands of feet above ground. She didn't need that. She had _this._

_"Megan? What are you doing in our room?"_

_"Nothing, boob. What's it to you? I was just leaving, anyway."_

They would never know. They couldn't see the details she saw. They couldn't see the nuts and bolts, the teeth of the gears sliding past each other in seamless harmony. They saw only the engine, the machine, the final product of her genius.

_"Megan, have you seen Drake?"_

_"What am I, my brother's keeper? Find him yourself."_

The moment the machine kicked into motion was always the best. The climax, when she saw her painstakingly crafted creation spring into life. That was the fuel that kept her always striving to improve.

_"Oh, God what was that noise? Sounds like something exploded!"_

_"Relax. Probably just Drake getting into more trouble."_

_"Aw, what did you do this time?"_

She smirked as her brother ran up the stairs. She would follow a little later – just hearing the sounds and imagining his expression was priceless.

Funny though…she hadn't thought it'd make such a loud noise…or that it would create so much _smoke…_perhaps a little error in calculation?

Impossible.

_"Drake? Dra – DRAKE!!! Oh God, oh – Megan, call an ambulance! Megan! Hurry! I don't…oh God, Drake, open your eyes…Megan, are you calling? I don't think he's breathing…oh God, oh God…!"_

Megan only stared dumbly towards the stairs, towards the sound of her brother's panicked voice.

Megan Parker didn't make mistakes. She couldn't afford to.

Because when one tiny rock was misplaced in just the right manner, a whole mountain was liable to come crashing down.


	2. Paper Thin

**_Paper-Thin_**

Josh Nichols was of above-average intelligence.

At least, that was what his transcript said. Black ink formed into manmade squiggles and characters marked him as a gifted student. Straight rows of the three lines making up the letter 'A' proved his diligence, intelligence, and whatever else mattered in the scholastic world.

Mere black ink on frail paper. That was all his life amounted to. Seventeen years, and he could only take pride in the geometric 'A's and the words "gifted and talented" printed in black ink on flimsy paper.

Water made ink bleed and run. Water made paper tear. Water was falling from his eyes, splashing mockingly onto his hands, onto his brother's soft brown hair as he clutched the limp body close. Fragile paper. Fragile life. Would the tears erase the existence of the boy he'd come to love, just as they could erase the pathetic existence of black ink?

The transcript lied. The sheet of paper was only scrap. He wasn't above average. He wasn't smart or prepared. He could only sit in helpless, dumb uncertainty, holding the broken body like a lifeline, as if believing that he could bind spirit to flesh with willpower alone.

He didn't have the answers. He failed the test. A feeling bordering on hysteria bubbled up, and he wanted to laugh aloud at the irony. The most important test of his life, and he'd failed it. What was the point of passing all the others ones? What was the good of being able to draw correct lines in correct orders on a piece of paper?

He wanted to scream.

"_Drake, Drake, hang in there. They'll be here soon. I'm sure they will be."_

It came out a whisper, a pitiable sound, rough and hoarse. It was a lie, too. He wasn't sure, not of anything, not anymore – certainty flew out the window the moment he laid eyes on his brother's battered body.

What has his life amounted to? Surely there was more than school and grades. It was possible to live without the attendance trophy or the honor roll certificate. Has he been chasing after the wrong things all this time?

"_Drake, stay with me. Stay for me, Drake."_

There was no sense in talking to someone in the deep sleep of unconsciousness, but Josh had ceased to care about sense. It was a _necessity_ that he kept talking. Talking was _something_, and _something_ was infinitely better than _nothing._ _Something _was real, and real was solid, and he could lean on concrete better than sand.

At this moment, he swore that he'd give up anything in exchange for the promise that Drake would pull through this, that tomorrow he'd see his brother with his patented sheepish grin and some ridiculous excuse, or that he'd hear the soft breathing drifting from the bunk bed in the middle of the night. He'd give up his grades, his acceptance letter into Stanford – even his Oprah.

Seventeen years and he's been chasing after emptiness, after black ink on fragile paper. But he knew now. Now he held a piece of life and meaning in his arms. Friendship, brotherhood, memories – Drake's existence was intertwined tightly with his own, and he refused to let go.

Flashing lights flooded the room, pouring in from the window, announcing the arrival of the ambulance.

Josh held on to paper-thin fragility, to life dripping onto the floor in a trail of crimson liquid.

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"Paper-width" was definitely meant to be a one-shot...but although these can both stand on their own, it felt more right to put them together. Maybe this'll end up as a set of anecdotes or something. We shall see.

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!


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